


Vampires, Werewolves and Bats, oh my

by LokiBitch07



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), The Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bane is not nice, Captivity, Collars, Hurt No Comfort, Jesus boys take it easy, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Poor John, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Torture, Vampires, Werewolves, Werewolves like to mark what belongs to them, alternative universe, golden showers, pissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-10-26 08:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10782966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiBitch07/pseuds/LokiBitch07
Summary: Blake was turned into a vampire by Batman when he was almost killed. Bane and his pack get a hold of him soon after. Bane sees Blake as bait to get to the Bat. And while they wait for the savior of Gotham to arrive, Bane makes sure that Blake learns to submit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey. Uhm... I don't know what happened.  
> For some reason I am recently obsessed with Bane/Blake and devoured all fics I could find. And I needed more. So I wondered what I could do to make it original, because holy, there are lots of great ideas out there. So how about Were!Bane and Vampire!John?
> 
> Yeah?  
> Yeah. 
> 
> Also, this is hurt, no comfort, including explicit non-con.  
> Bane is not a good puppy dog. And Blake is being beaten to a pulp.  
> Don't like, don't read.  
> No complaining allowed later.  
> I did warn you.
> 
>  
> 
> x

Pain.

No one had told him that dying would be this painful.

John pulled another, desperate breath into his heaving lungs, struggling weakly once more.

For some reason he had not considered that walking through the dark alleys of the occupied city of Gotham in the middle of the night might be a bad idea.  
He had never been hurt before.  
And he wanted to be like the Batman.   
To serve.   
To protect. 

Well. He was paying for that now.

The bloodsucker crouching over him, her teeth sunk deep into his neck, ripping and gnawing, sharp points of bone-deep pain – John realized that she was not going to just have a snack and leave him be,  
No ma'am.

That vampire bitch was going to drain him.

He moaned softly at another sharp pull that felt like it was sucking his soul through his neck. Her fingers were splayed on his chest, and the sounds she made, drinking, were almost obscene. Loud and needy. All of the sudden she stopped, pulling away. Cold air washed soothing against the hot mess of his ripped-open throat. His entire body was drumming with pain. His heart was labouring in his chest and he took another, stuttering breath.

He could feel blood run from his mouth, drip down his chin. 

Please.

He did not want to die.

Then the vampire was back on him, digging her sharp teeth into the other side, mauling him some more. 

John felt his fingers twitch as he took another gurgling breath. 

This was shit.

He wanted to live. 

He wanted to help save this city. 

Help...

There was a woosh of air, and then, all of the sudden, the bloodsucker was gone. 

John blinked, starring up into the sky. 

The stars were beautiful.   
With the power outage the city he had seen more stars than ever before.

John closed his eyes.

His heart hurt.   
Literally. 

It was taking another beat, slow, painful, and another.

“John? Shit, John. Stay with me. Stay with me...”

Nah.

He hurt. 

Maybe death would be a good idea.  
Peaceful.   
Pain-free.

John slipped into oblivion.

 

x

 

When John woke he was laid out in a soft bed in a large room that he did not recognize.

The first thing he thought was: How am I not dead?

The second thing he realized was how much he still hurt. 

Dying might have been preferable.

John moaned.

His throat was dry, his tongue like a thick, useless clump of wood in his mouth. His heart was still labouring, each thump heavy and painful, as if it was considering just and simply stopping any moment.

His skin was burning.

He tried to move, but it was too much and he slipped back into the dark well of unconsciousness. 

 

x

 

“John. Wake up.”

John groaned. There was a cool hand on his head, fingers carding through his hair.

It was nice. 

Especially because it was a stark contrast against the war that that each and every one of his cell seemed to be fighting, his body a battleground. John felt his back arching, his fingers clawing into nothingness as a full-body cramp ravaged through him. 

And another. 

And another.

“Make... it stop.” His lips were chapped, and it was hard to speak when his throat closed up, tightening like a noose with no air to be had. 

“Relax, John. It will be over soon.”

Not soon enough.

Another cramp, his whole body lifting off the mattress, fighting the mounting anguish that threatened to eat him up. 

This time the darkness was welcome.

 

x

 

When John woke the next time, it was night outside.

He blinked, tried lifting his arm. He felt weak as a kitten.

There was movement in the corner of his eye, and then he saw someone walking towards him. “Ah, Master Blake. You are awake. I will get Master Wayne.”

John´s mind was slow, sluggish. 

Wayne.

Bruce Wayne?

The oldest, most influential vampire of all of Gotham?

What in the hell was he doing here?

John shifted, tried sitting up. 

He was so _thirsty._

His eyes roamed the side-table, looking for a glass of water, anything to quench this thirst that was burning inside him.

But there was nothing. 

So he leaned back, into the softness of his pillows, trying to relax.

It slowly came back to him what had happened.

He had been attacked.   
And then he had been sick.  
Sicker than ever before in his life. 

And now... now he was in what he guessed to be Wayne's manor, laying on a bed that was softer than it had any right to be. 

A sound from the door made him lift his head again. 

“John. You are awake.”

The man moved too quickly, a quirk of the nightwalkers that John had never been able to get used to. “Yeah.” He mumbled. “Thirsty. Water?”

He knew that he was being rude, no please and nothing, but all he could think about was the dryness and thirst that gnawed at him.

Bruce leaned in, frowning slightly. “About that, John. We must talk.”

 

x

 

It took John less than two days to get back up on his feet. 

It took him much longer to get used to being a vampire.

A god-damned vampire.

He had been seething when he had left Wayne´s manor, teeth on edge. 

 

_“I never asked you for this! I did not want to be turned!”_

_Bruce had stared down at him, not looking apologetic at all. “She had sucked you dry. You were as good as dead.” He had shrugged. “You are a good man, John Blake. That is rare. And Gotham could not afford to loose you. Not now. Not in this crisis.”_

_John had grit his teeth. “You had no right to do this to me.”_

_Bruce had sighed. “It is done, John. You should stay. I will teach you...”_

_“Leave me the fuck alone!”_

 

But in the end Bruce had been right. Of course he had. 

John knew very little on how to feed, how to get hold off precious blood or find willing donors, how to shield himself from sunlight, to learn about territories and vampire etiquette.

So after spending a day in his shabby apartment, licking his wounds, he made himself go back to Bruce Wayne. He growled at him some more, then listened to a litany of explanations. 

The following evening he went to see Commissioner Gordon.   
“I will need to work nights, from now on.” John mumbled. He looked at Gordon, hardly able to stand the pity in the man´s eyes. 

“Oh son.” The Commissioner shook his head, putting his hand on John´s shoulder. He said nothing else.

And that was good.

Because John did not wish to be pitied.

By no one.

 

x

 

He has no idea how they found him.

Or how they they knew.

But they did. 

And another week later, the wolves came for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings at the end.

John woke to being dragged between two men, his feet stuttering over rocks and debris.  
His head was hanging low. It hurt.

It took him a moment to come back to himself.  
To remember what had happened. 

He had been out on a patrol, roaming the streets. He had gone into a building site, knowing that close to that area bodies kept being spewed out from the sewers. He wanted to make sure that none of the kids was out here, sleeping rough, not with the freezing temperatures and monsters that hid in the darkness.

He had not expected the Weres to melt out of the dark, their golden eyes glowing as they slowly circled him. The smallest of the men, small enough to be a runt of the litter, had spoken, his words hard with a sharp lilt. “John Robin Blake.”

John´s whole body had tensed then. “How do you know my name?”

The grin that he was given was broad, full of jagged teeth. “Come with us.”

“Yeah, no.” He had forced himself not to step back, to cower. While he was a vampire now, more powerful than he had been as a human, his body was still adjusting to... to being dead... and he still did not have the power he knew that he would one day have. 

But he was fast.   
Faster than a wolf.  
Or so he had hoped.

But in the end not fast enough. 

One had caught up with him, a dark-skinned wolf with broad shoulders, and then they had bound him as he laid on the floor, spitting and hissing at them. Then something had hit him over the head and darkness had taken him once more.

And now he was taken to God-knows-where. His eyes were well adjusted to the darkness, so he could see the tunnels they were going through, the water that splashed under their feet, the rats that ran as they came around corners. 

He struggled slightly, but his effort was answered with only a grunt and the hands squeezing him tighter, fingers digging into his undead flesh. 

What seemed like an eternity later he was thrown on the floor in a wide, circular room, several stories high , chains hanging from the ceiling, metal bridges crossing over a wide stream. He landed with a grunt, his hands still tied behind him. He shuffled to his knees and tried to stand, but a heavy hand on his shoulders forced him to stay in place. 

John snarled.

He raised his eyes and froze.

Before him stood a mountain of a man, clad in a sheep-fur jacket, thick legs in military-style pants. He was talking to his men, but when John raised his head he stopped, turning around slowly. 

Bane.

John swallowed the fear that bubbled in his stomach, the acidic taste of panic on his tongue. 

The Were came closer, his golden eyes studying John. The muzzle that the Alpha was wearing gleamed in the dimness of the room, its tubes broadening his face, giving the impression of a snout. He was even bigger than he had seemed on TV. John did his best not to flinch back as Bane stepped up to him, glaring down at him.

His mind raced through everything he knew about Werewolves.

Don't show your throat.  
Keep eye contact at all times. 

This was not the place to show weakness. 

Bane stared at him, his yellow eyes sparkling in the twilight of the room. 

“We found Blake.” The voice came from behind him, the runt, speaking for the first time since he had addressed John outside.

Bane´s eyes flicked towards the smaller man, then he went to his knees, slowly, leaning in close enough that John could smell the sharpness of musk and animal that was very much part of all wolves. 

John grit his teeth, raised his chin defiantly. “What do you want from me?”

The wolf studied him for a long moment before he spoke, his voice distorted and metallic through the muzzle. “You belong to Wayne.”

It was a statement, not a question. 

Still, it took John by surprise. “I don't belong to anybody.” He grit out, pulling at his bindings, as if that would make his point clearer. 

Bane raised his hand, placing it on John´s shoulder, an almost gentle touch. 

John froze. He knew that there was enough strength in Bane to crush him to a pulp, right here, right now, with nothing more than a a flick of his wrist. And even his accelerated vampire healing would not be able to save him. 

“But you do. You belong to Wayne.” The voice was soft, hissing. “You smell like him. He turned you.”

There was nothing to say to that really. Still, John was not going to give in that easily. “I don´t belong to anybody.” He repeated. “But you know something? I can smell you too. You smell like wet dog.”

He did not know where the bravado had come from, but fear had threatened to overtake him, and this... this felt good. He was a god-damned vampire, after all. 

He fist that hit him went straight into his stomach, toppling him over. It had been expected though. No one spoke to an Alpha like that. John heaved for breath before he was pulled back up by his hair, the second hit shattering his nose, blood pouring from it. 

Shit.

John collapsed on the floor, shivering. He could see his own blood pooling by his face, but he could do nothing but blink lazily. 

_He is going to kill me. I am going to die after all. Alone. In the darkness. It was all for nothing...._

“Take him to the cell.” John felt the hands under his armpits and then he was pulled back on his feet where he swayed for a moment. Bane was still staring at him, and this time it was harder not to lower his eyes, to submit. “Robin. Little bird.” A soft hiss as Bane inhaled and exhaled. “We shall see how long it takes the Bat to save you.”

John´s eyes widened. 

What in the...?

Then he was pulled along once more, into the darkness of the sewers, his mind churning uselessly. 

 

X

 

John was thrown into a small cell, a tiny room that was surrounded by iron bars to two sides, slimy stone wall to the other sides. There was a small cot in one corner, a bucket in the other, and that was it. The cell door was thrown closed behind him, and John twirled around.

He was alone. Alone and still bound.

For several minutes he struggled against his bonds, trying to free himself.   
It was to no avail. He was bound too tightly. 

Slowly he walked to the bed and sat down.

His face hurt like a bitch, but John could feel his flesh already knitting together, the bone struggling to rearrange itself back to how it should be. 

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.

Better come up with an escape plan, and fast.

 

x

 

Bane left him in there for four days.

John had not been a vampire for long, he had never gone hungry before.

And by the third day he was _starving._

Literally. 

John had walked through the entire cell, six steps by six steps, looking for weaknesses, looking for something, anything that could help him escape. 

But there was nothing. Of course not. 

By the second day he had started to panic. The hunger was burrowing into his stomach, made his teeth elongate and his skin itchy. 

By the third day John was screaming, snarling, attacking the bars, throwing himself against them, again and again until he collapsed on the floor. He could feel his heart fighting to continue to beat, his lungs heaving, struggling to inflate. 

His body was burning. 

“Please...” He whispered as he laid on the floor, pulling his knees towards his face. “Please.”

He did not know whom he was begging. There was no one there to show him mercy.

With a shiver John realized that he was going to die, rather sooner than later. 

Bane came to him on the fourth day.

John was still lying on the floor, eyes open but unseeing, shivering slightly. 

He was not cold.   
He felt like he was being burned alive.

He heard the key in the door, the lock opening, heard the heavy booted steps coming towards him. John swallowed drily, trying to make himself turn, something, anything.

He couldn´t.

He was weak.   
So weak. 

He did not move as Bane went to his knees beside him, his golden eyes on him inquisitively. “Robin.” He wheezed. “Are you dead, boy?”

John licked his lips. “Need... to feed.” His voice was little less than a croak. 

A grumbling sound came from Bane, dark and deep, like an animal. “Yes. You are young still. You should feed daily for your powers to come to you.” A hand fisted into John´s shirt, turning him onto his back. John groaned. He could hardly feel his hands any more as they were trapped behind him, and his head lolled to the side, unable to hold it up. 

“Please...” It was hard to talk, his throat scratching.   
But he was desperate. 

If he did not eat soon, he would die.

The Alpha leaned closer, studying John. His fingers were running along John´s upper body, tracing the outlines of his pockets, the stitching on his police uniform. “What will you give me if I feed you, little bird?”

John blinked. His mind was sluggish, slow, and the question had been unexpected.

What would he give?

He had nothing to give. 

“What...” He licked his lips again, his tongue scraping over his long teeth. He was not able to pull them back in to hide them, not any more. “What do you want?”

Another low rumble. “Nothing much.” A slow inhale, exhale. “ I wish for you to submit. To offer yourself to me.”

A red flash of anger went through John and he snarled. “Never.”

He watched as Bane got to his feet, still staring down at him. “Very well.”

And with that Bane left. 

John cursed, closed his eyes. 

He was so fucked.

 

x

 

Bane gave John another day.

If John was honest, he was surprised he managed to survive that long. But apparently vampires were resilient. That being said, he hurt. His mind was caught in a fog of pain and hunger, and little else managed to come through. 

But when the door opened again, John opened his eyes. 

He had thought about it.   
Whether he should submit. Or die. 

But John wanted to live. So badly. 

He was still on his back, had not moved since Bane had turned him there. He was not shivering, not any more. John was pretty sure that was a bad sign. Bane walked over to him, towering above him, staring down at him. “Little bird. Have you thought about my offer?”

He did not repeat what he offered, what the price was. Both knew that John would not have forgotten.

And John wished he could tell him to fuck off once more, wished he had the strength, but... but he didn't. “I submit.” He whispered. 

“Good.” Bane growled. Then, he slowly unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out.

John did not know what to do. He had wondered what Bane meant by submitting, had hoped it would not mean... this. But apparently he had no such luck. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth.

He ripped them open a second later when something warm hit his chest, droplets splashing onto his face. “Hey! What the hell...!” He summoned the strength to look up, growling under his breath. Bane was pissing on him.   
Marking him like an animal.

Damn Werewolves. 

John snarled weakly, let his head thump back onto the floor.

The sharp smell of the urine invaded John´s nostrils and he bit down onto his lip, tried to ignore the rivulets of warm piss snaking down his body, making the uniform cling to him in patches. 

Then, finally, it was done. 

John heaved a breath when he felt a small tug on uniform. Bane was crouching over him, his claws out, and he slowly, methodically started to rip his uniform to shreds. John said nothing, though he tensed when cold air hit his upper body, his nipples tightening. 

When Bane ran his fingers along the seam of his pants and slowly started cutting it, down along his leg, all the way to his feet, John knew that they were not done. He swallowed, hard, hoping that he could keep still, that this would not hurt as much as he thought it might. 

At least he would heal quickly. 

That was... something.

Bane had finished undressing him, pulled off his boots and socks, leaving John naked save for some tattered remnants of his shirt clinging to his bound arms. Then he leaned down and lifted John up as one would a small child, carried him over to the bed. 

John grit his teeth when he was thrown down, suppressing a low groan when he caught his whole weight on his hands bound on his back, sending pins and needles up his numb arms. Bane grabbed his legs and opened them obscenely wide, and John squeezed his eyes shut as not to see what was going to happen next.

He did not have to see. 

But he felt.

Bane leaned in and then fingers ghosted over John´s lips. “Suck.” The command was given with a coldness that made John shudder. He knew why he had to suck and he opened his mouth tentatively, tonguing at the thick digits that shoved into him immediately. John gagged. Bane´s skin was sour and tasted of dirt and piss, and he had to keep himself from throwing up, his stomach rolling.

He hardly had any saliva, hungry and dried out as he was, so Bane pulled away from him soon, grunting under his breath. Then he leaned in, caging John´s body with his own. “I would say relax.” He rumbled. “But this is going to hurt.” John stiffened when he felt the blunt head of Bane´s thick cock nudge at his entrance, hardly slick with spit.   
And then he pushed in.

John screamed. 

He could not hold himself back, the way his body tensed as Bane bucked into him, forcing his dry cock into his unprepared opening. He tried to pull his legs together, but Bane held him open as he forced his way into him.

It felt like he was being fucked with a knife. 

John´s scream turned into a sob when Bane pulled back a little and sawed himself deeper. Blake could feel his skin splitting and the blood acting as a horrible sort of lubricant. He could not hold back the low whine that left his lips when Bane settled against him, too deep inside of him, as if he was piercing his intestines. 

“Stop. Please...” John could not keep himself from begging, voice low and desperate.

“Submit, little Robin.” And then Bane started to fuck him. 

It was horrible, painful, the way each and every thrust rattled his bone, pushing him further up the bed. Bane held his legs wide open, and when John arched his back off the bed, to try to get away, he pulled them onto his shoulders and leaned in, folding John in half. Bane pressed his muzzle against John´s neck, his wheezing breath puffing hot against cold skin. 

John sobbed quietly as Bane continued to fuck him, hard and fast as an animal would. 

Then he pulled out and stood, and John flinched when hot cum hit his face and belly, painting him with streaks of pearly white. All the energy left him and he felt himself deflate, like a rag doll. 

Bane stood above him, panting, and John did not move when he was turned to the side. 

There was a low pull on his arms and then, all of the sudden his hands were free, useless appendages after being bound so long. 

Then John was turned back onto his back, his legs still splayed on the floor. 

Bane stepped up and with a quick motion ran one of his claws over his own arm, watching as blood welled in the cut. He pressed his arm against John´s mouth. “Drink.”

John groaned, his eyelids fluttering. When the first warm drop of blood hit his tongue, saltly and alive, he ripped his eyes open. His teeth scraped along skin, ready to plunge down when Bane pulled away, smacking him hard in the face. “You will not bite me.” He pulled John up by his hair, shacking him as one would a bad puppy. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.... please-” John´s eyes were ripped open, pupils blown and all black, hunger shining in his eyes. He sucked greedily when Bane offered him his arm once more, pulling the life-giving blood into his mouth. 

Much too soon, after only two or three swallows did Bane pull away. “That is enough.” He grumbled. “I will get you a human to feed upon.”

And with that he left, leaving John panting on the bed. 

 

x

 

Bane kept his word.

Shortly after he had left a bound man was pushed into John´s cell, the door clattering closed behind him. 

The blood that Bane had given him had done little but whet his appetite, and now the hunger was threatening to devour him. John got up from his cot, eyes dark, his lips pulled back from his teeth. The man cowered when he saw him, and a moment later John had grabbed him, sunk his teeth into the stubbled skin of the man´s throat. 

It turned out that he required a lot more blood once he had been starved.   
It also turned out that he had no control once he started feeding, sucking and sucking, until the man underneath him stopped struggling. 

When he tried to stand his legs hardly held his weight.   
Not only had he killed a man, but somehow the blood had been tainted. With drugs? Alcohol?

Who knew.

The rest of the day John sat on his bed and stared down at the dead body, forcing himself to feel nothing.

He did not succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-con, pissing, marking of territory.  
> Starvation.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, thanks for reading.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and bookmarks, they make me warm and tingly inside.
> 
>  
> 
> x

Bane visited him two days later.

He had left John alone long enough that he felt hunger carving itself into his belly once more. It was not enough to weaken him substantially, but his mind was a little foggy due to craving for fresh, warm blood on his tongue. 

“Hello, Robin.” Bane stepped into the cell, the bulk of his flesh filling out the doorway.

John curled his shoulders forward, fisting his hands. He glowered at the wolf in front of him. “I told you. My name is John. John Blake.” He sounded a lot more hoarse than he would have thought. 

Bane walked towards him and reached out, taking John´s chin in his hand. Then he forced him to look up at him. John kept still as dark golden eyes studied him intently. His mouth thinned. “I am not afraid of you.” He spat out.

The sides of Bane´s eyes crinkled – that bastard was smiling. “Aren´t you, little one?” The hand around his throat closed in, tighter, and John reached up to grab Bane´s wrists as he squeezed hard. “Did I not fuck you hard enough, then? What do I need to do for you to fear me, little bird?”

John gasped for breath. 

He was a vampire, he did not require to breathe as much as humans did, but it was instinctual. And with it was the panic that climbed into his throat. 

Bane squeezed one more time, then let him go.

John slumped down, fingers digging into dirt. 

He looked up, past the pillars of Bane´s thick legs, noting that the door had been left open.

The door.

Open. 

John did not think.   
He bolted. 

He catapulted himself past Bane, out into the dark hallway, his naked feet drumming on hard, cold concrete. He could hear the howl behind him, heard heavy boots chasing him, sending shivers up his spine. He skipped around a corner, and another, keeping his head down, arms pumping. He heard the noise of rushing water and turned again, and then skidded to a halt. 

He was back at the room, the large, open room. 

And it was teeming with wolves. 

John froze, just for a few moments, wondering where to turn to, how to get out, but the waste of precious time was enough to seal his fate. A heavy hand came down onto his shoulder, squeezing it painfully. “Did you want an audience, little one? You should have just said so.”

A hard shove between his shoulder blades had him sprawling on the floor. He scrambled to get back up, and then Bane twirled him around, sending another fist into his stomach. John doubled over, fell onto his knees. Bane pressed him down onto the floor, caging him in. 

John panicked. 

He fought like a man possessed. He snarled, throwing all his anger and fear into the throws of his fists, snapping his teeth whenever an expanse of flesh came too close to him. 

But it was to no avail. 

Bane was massive. And much, much stronger.  
He was a good-damned wolf, for Christ's sake. 

When John´s right arm broke with a dry snap he screamed, doubling over to clutch at it. 

Then he was thrown onto the floor, turning to scramble to his knees, to run, to get away. Bane´s heavy hand descended on the back of his neck and pushed him down until he could taste dirt on his lips. The pulled his hips up and towards him, steadying him. 

John bit his lip, tears of defeat leaking from his eyes. 

Bane fucked into him just as brutal as the first time. 

John tried to hold back the scream, but he couldn´t. He heard the laughter of the wolves around him and buried his head into the crook of his good arm, biting into his own flesh to keep himself silent.

A hand dug into his hair and ripped his head back. 

Bane was caging him once more, his massive bulk moving above him, inside him. “Let them hear you sing, little bird. Let them hear who you belong to.”

John pressed his eyes closed, pained sobs falling from his lips. 

Bane fucked him longer, even harder than last time, if that was possible. His fingers dug so hard into John´s hips that he was sure that they would bruise, pulling him back onto his cock, again and again. 

And once again Bane pulled out just before he came, marking John with his cum, soiling him. 

John curled into himself when it was done. 

He had not expected the warm splatter of piss when it hit him, and he grit his teeth and pressed his eyes closed as it soaked into his hair, painting the rest of his cold body with warmth. 

When Bane leaned down to pull him to his feet his voice was a low growl. “Mine.”

 

x

 

After that Bane visited him daily, sometimes more than once. 

And even though the hunger weakened him once more, John fought him.

Every time.

He tried to stay silent when Bane raped him, but it was hard, and he realized soon that Bane made him hurt even more when he denied him his sounds. It just spurred him on to bite his lip and try to ignore the havoc that Bane brought down on his body, to simply try to detach himself as he was taken roughly, again and again.

It was the only way he found he had any sort of power whatsoever.   
The power of silence. 

After a couple of days passed and John felt almost too weak to stand, Bane walked into his cell, his yellow eyes sparkling. “Robin.” His voice sounded almost loving. “Submit.” He slit one sharp claw along his wrist, thick droplets of his blood splattering on the floor.

John stared at the red life, his mouth gone dry.

He hurt, yes, but not as much as he had last time.   
He had drunk an entire man dry just a couple of days ago, for Gods sake. 

Still, the pull of the blood, the smell of it made his weary heart beat faster, made him growl low in his throat. It was hard to rip his eyes away, to stare up at Bane and shake his head. “No.” His voice was little less than a whisper.

Bane nodded as if he had expected the answer. “Very well.”

Then he dragged John to the bed, kicking and screaming, where he forced him down onto his stomach and took what was not freely given.

And John did not, he did not crawl over the floor later to lick at the dried blood that Bane had shed, hating himself as he tasted dirt on his tongue. 

 

x

 

He gave in the next day.

Bane had come to him, and it had been hard to even lift his head. 

He blinked when he realized that Bane was not alone. He had brought a human, this time a woman, the smell of her fear sharp and acidic in the room. Feral need and hunger coursed through John, and he dug his fingers into his palms to calm himself. He ripped his eyes away from the woman, searching out Bane´s cruel, golden eyes.

“Robin.” Bane closed the door behind him, letting the arm of the woman go. John´s eyes flicked to her, then he noted the two wolves standing outside, watching through the bars. 

Right.

John swallowed drily. 

Bane had walked up to him and it took all of John´s strength not to curl into himself and squeeze his eyes closed, in hope that the wolf would leave him alone. 

“Little bird.” Bane towered above him, staring down at him. “Submit.”

Angry tears burned in his eyes and John clenched his hands.

But he knew that if he did not submit now, he would have to tomorrow.  
The question was whether the gnawing pain of starvation was worth his pride.   
Slowly he raked together the last strength that he had and climbed out of the bed, his eyes never leaving Bane´s.

“What...” He swallowed, drily. “What will you have me do?”

Bane´s large hand came up and John flinched away from it violently. But it just settled in his hair, carding through it almost tenderly. “Kneel, Robin.”

John´s eyes flicked to the woman who was pressed against the bars, her eyes saucer-wide and scared.

He said nothing for long minutes.

There was a battle inside of him, a battle whether to do what he was told and save him the pain, or to just... give in. His legs were shaking, he was so very weary. 

Bane must have realized what was going through his head, for he waited, patiently. 

Finally John nodded, a minute movement, and slowly sunk down to his knees. His fists were still clenched at his sides, he his eyes were pressed closed, so he did not have to see the glee in the eyes of the wolf, the horror in the blues of the woman.

“Good.” The hand was back, carding through his hair again.

John heard rustling and when he opened his eyes Bane was kneeling in front of him, studying him. There was something in his hand.

“Your neck, Robin. Show it to me.” He grumbled. 

John stared down at what Bane was holding, his heart stopping in his chest. 

It was a collar. 

A wide collar, black and shiny, with a golden O-ring on the front. From it hung a round disk, black, with golden letters etched into it. _Bane´s Bitch._

“No.” John choked out. He flinched away when Bane´s hand dug into his hair, gentle no more.

“Submit, little bird.”

“No, fuck you, no! You can´t do that to me, you can´t collar me like a dog! Who do you think you are?” John wheezed out, trying to scramble away from the mountain of a wolf in front of him. “Fuck you, Bane! Fuck you.”

Bane growled, a low, feral sound. 

His hand tightened in John´s hair and then he forced him to the ground, smacking his head against hard concrete, again and again. 

For a moment darkness overtook him and John blinked once, twice, gasping through blood that ran from his nose.

A heavy knee dug into his back, forcing him flat onto the floor. Still John twisted and turned, cursing under his breath. “Get off of me, you damned fuck, get off, get off...”

“Stay calm, little one. Submit to me.”

“No.” John chocked out. His limbs were heavy as if they were lined with lead, and darkness threatened at the corners of his vision. He was so hungry, could feel his body devouring himself. 

He had no strength left.

And still he fought. 

He expected Bane to leave, to let him starve, and he flinched at the rumbling laughter above him. “Good. There is so much fight left in you, my Robin.”

John snarled again when he felt the collar slip around his neck, but there was little he could do. Bane buckled it up and then there was the low snick of what must have been a lock closing. 

John stilled, panting. 

He closed his eyes when Bane lifted his hips as if he weighed nothing, draping himself over his much smaller form. He stayed still as he heard a zipper being drawn open, almost biting through his lip when Bane thrust into him, dry as always. Bane fucked him hard, relentless, and John could do little but lower his head and ride it out, his fingers clawing into the floor as he kept himself from making any sounds. 

Afterwards he collapsed into himself, shivering when Bane carded his hand through his hair once more. 

“Feed, little one. You will need your strength.”

He knew now to expect the warm piss that hit him, curled into himself as it soaked his hair, his face, his chest. 

With that Bane left him and the sobbing, horrified woman alone in the cell.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your kudos, bookmarks and comments. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

Bane returned just a couple of hours later.

John was pacing his cell, up and down, up and down, again and again like a tiger in a cage.   
He was sated, his body brimming with energy.   
And he was angry.   
Furious, even.   
Where was the Batman?  
Why was he still here, caught like a fly in a trap, dancing to the tunes of a madman?  
He snarled under his breath as he turned to walk the way back, his naked feet connecting with the cold floor with small sounds. 

Time stretched like chewed gum, but soon enough he heard heavy steps walking towards his cell, and he knew that Bane was coming for him. 

John slowed his steps and stilled, raised his chin. The heavy collar on his neck shifted, warm material against his cold flesh, like a brand to remind him how far he had fallen.  
He could not keep his hand from tugging at the leather.   
He had spend the first hours trying to take it off, had scratched and snarled as he ripped at the collar, but it was secured fast. Bane had closed it with a damn padlock in the back. And no matter how much he worked against it, it had not opened. 

John could not hold back the snarl when Bane stepped into his cell, though he was almost proud at himself for standing his ground. He felt stronger, sated. He would not back off. 

Not right now.

Bane´s eyes racked over his body, slowly, as if he was appreciating the view. Then his eyes slid down to the woman laying on the bed, stretched out on her side. He slowly walked up to the bed and bent down, pushing one of his thick fingers against her neck. When he looked back at John his face was unreadable. “She is alive.”

“Yes.” John nodded. It had been hard, had required almost inhuman strength and had been painful, but he had managed to stop drinking when he felt her heartbeat slow, had forced himself to back off the moment he felt he could. It made him proud, giddily happy that he had been able to show restraint, even if it was just a little. 

Bane´s forehead furrowed, and then, without even blinking, he snapped the sleeping woman´s neck. 

John felt his face crumble, raising his fists. “NO!” He flinched away when Bane rose and walked towards him, an instinctive response he seemed not to be able to control any more. He looked past the bulky body of Bane at the woman, her red-blond hair fanned out around her, her eyes now wide and staring. “You did not have to kill her.”

“No.” Bane agreed, his voice low. “That was your job.”

John ripped his eye away from the woman, looking up at Bane with wide eyes. “What?”

“You are to kill your prey.” Bane explained, almost patiently. “That is why I starve you.”

John shook his head, his mouth dry all of the sudden. “Why would you want that?” He chocked out.

“Because it hurts you.” Bane said simply. 

John did not know what to say, a cold, piercing heaviness settling in his bones. 

“And now I have to punish you.” The bastard was staring at him, studying as one would an insect. 

John felt sharp, much stronger than he had the last times he fought Bane. He was faster, his hits were harder. So he fought. Again it made no difference. Though he did manage to rake a couple of bloody stripes down Bane´s arm, managed to get close enough to sink his teeth into his shoulder before he was slammed against he bars of his cage, sliding to the floor. He got up, again and again, just to be punched and kicked, thrown back down. He could feel a rib give in, knew he was bleeding, but for some strange reason Bane seemed to be holding back, broke nothing else. 

And still John lost. 

John did not know how long he fought, but only when he finally laid on the floor, unable to rise, did Bane stop. He was pulled on his feet by a rough hand, holding him until he could stand steady, on his own. Bane stared at him, then reached out, snapped something to his collar. John looked down to see a chain running across his chest, ending in a leather loop that was in Bane´s hand. It was a god-damned leash. “Fuck you.” He spat out, voice wet with blood and fatigue.

“Not now, little one.” Bane sounded amused. “First you will take your punishment. Then you can be sure that I will have you again.” He walked out the corridor, pulling John behind him like a dog.. 

John stumbled along. 

His body was brimming with energy, but Bane had layered hurt and pain and fear on top of it, and it made his head cloudy and his limbs strangely sluggish. 

He was pulled to the large, circular room once more, where the water was running below, men and wolves standing, busying themselves. John kept his eyes glued on the floor. He knew what he must look like, naked and beaten, stinking of old piss and covered in bruises, wearing a collar that called him Bane´s bitch for everyone to see. 

Bane dragged him onto one of the metal bridges crossing the river underneath, pulled a thick chain hanging from the ceiling towards him. “Your hands, Robin.”

John shook his head, tired. He expected the fist that connected with the side of his head, allowed himself to crumble to the ground. A pair of handcuffs closed around his wrists, too tight to be anything but painful. Then Bane took the hook from the end of the thick chain and slung the links of the handcuffs over it.

He turned and nodded, and John felt his hands rising as the large chain was pulled up. He was pulled to his feet, then to his toes, his arms stretched above him. 

John groaned.

“Now, little bird.” Bane´s rumble was close to John´s ear, hot air puffing against his neck. “I am going to have to cut your claws so you can learn your place.” John felt Bane´s hand on his mouth, pressing into cheeks with a hard grip, and he opened it, involuntary. Then Bane reached in, got hold of one of his upper fangs, and pulled.

John screamed. 

He struggled, trying to get away, but within seconds there was a staggering agony as his canine was pulled from the bone, blood splashing over Bane´s fingers. 

Bane looked at the fang for a long moment, almost contemplating. Then he threw it on the floor, watching it fall through the grill of the bridge, into the water below. “The next time I bring you someone to kill...” He forced John´s mouth open again and got hold of the second upper fang. “...You will kill them.” With another sharp tug he ripped out the second tooth. John´s knees gave way and he slumped down. He watched, dazed, as blood rivulet down his skin, snaked down his naked body, down to his feet. He coughed wetly, spraying blood over Bane´s chest. 

Bane stepped away.

He pocketed the second fang, then gave another sign.

John was pulled higher up, until his feet left the ground, dangling him up in the air. Then the chain moved, away from the bridge, suspending him over the water.

The handcuffs cut cruelly into his flesh.

“You are lucky that you are still so young, Robin.” Bane´s voice sounded as if it was filtered through cotton. “You will survive this and you will fly again.”

With that he left, John dangling in the air, wheezing in pain.

John thought that pulling out his fangs had been the punishment.  
But it was only part of it.

When the dawn came and the sun rose John realized that there was a hole in the ceiling, high up, round and covered with iron bars. They had hung him in a way that he could see the rays of the sun wandering towards him, and a couple of hours later the light hit his skin, burning him in its wake. 

John screamed himself hoarse. 

Agony layered over pain and fatigue layered over more agony.

And all John could think about was that Batman would come for him soon, would save him from this hell he could not escape alone.

During the day he burned.

At night he healed. 

Bane left him hanging for three days.

John´s fangs grew back, but slowly. 

At night his burns healed, but the agony was repeated again the next day, being burned alive, twisting and shouting, unable to do anything about it. 

He did not die.

He was not old enough, his body not wasted enough to fall apart when hit by the sun.

But it still hurt. 

By the time he was lowered back onto the floor John felt like he was nothing but a shell, hollowed out, empty. 

He groaned when his knees gave out under him and sank to the floor, the metal of the bridge cutting into his skin, his numb hands unable to hold weight. 

He blinked slowly, noting that Bane went to one knee beside him, large fingers stroking over his filthy skin. “Little bird.” John shivered at the rasp in the Wolf´s voice. “Have you learned your lesson?”

John wheezed as he swallowed drily, trying to roll away from the warm hand on his flesh. But Bane would not let him. He held him fast, continued petting him as one would sooth a frightened beast. 

John closed his eyes, took a gasping breath.   
His fangs had started growing again, and while his mouth still felt tender days after, he would be able to bite his prey once more.

But was he able to kill?  
John grit his teeth, shook his head. 

He did not know. 

Bane gave him another moment, patiently waiting at his side. When it became clear that John would not answer he spoke again, voice almost soft. “I have asked you a question, Robin. Did you learn your lesson?”

He wanted to say no.   
He did not wish to kill anyone.

But to be strung up again, to burn, in agony, hanging from his hands... he couldn´t. Not right now.   
Maybe tomorrow.

But not right now. 

“Yeah...” John coughed, shivering. He could not look at the pleased expression he knew that the Alpha would wear, did not wish to see his loss in the face of the other. 

“Good.” Bane´s voice was a soothing raps. “Let us put that to the test, shall we?”

John could feel his stomach churn, but he did not resist as he was pulled to his feet, the chain attaching to his collar once more. 

And when Bane pulled him along, he went.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there.Thanks to all for reading - this chapter was a bitch and I have been chewing on it for weeks.  
> As I realized that it will never be perfect, I just decided to finally post it. 
> 
> So here it is.  
> Any errors are my own. 
> 
> Kudos, comments and bookmarks are fabulous and everything that makes me keep writing and posting.
> 
> Extra warnings at end of chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> x

“Let us put that to the test, shall we?”

The words echoed in John´s head, over and over, as he walked, the long chain connected to his collar swinging in the rhythm of Bane´s steps. 

John´s fists were clenched at his sides, and his breath stuttered in his chest.   
Bane´s words made him weary.   
It felt like a dagger of ice had burrowed itself into his stomach, dread blooming there, spreading through him, sluggishly moving through his blood like poison. 

He felt sick.   
Empty. 

Worthless.

Because he realized that he could not, would not fight.   
Not anymore. 

His eyes were glued to the floor, putting one naked, dirty foot in front of the other, not wanting to see the glee and disdain in the eyes of the Wolves eyes around him. 

He only looked up when Bane stopped in front of him. 

They were inside another large room, wooden boxes stapled up to the ceiling around them, a naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling distributing a faint glow. 

Two Wolves stood at the entrance, holding machine guns, lowering their eyes when Bane´s hard gaze glid over them. In the middle of the room were two men kneeling on a large rug, their hands bound behind their back.  
It took John a moment to understand what he was seeing. 

Then Bane spoke, his mechanical rasp strangely loud in the cramped room. “Commissioner Gordon. What a pleasure to have you with us.”

John did not wait for Bane to tell him to kneel: His legs gave out under him and he fell hard onto the floor.   
For a moment he simply stared. “Gordon.” He whispered.

The eyes of the bound men turned towards him, the blue ones of the older Commissioner, brown ones of a younger man of Asian heritage, slightly overweight and stocky. 

_Gordon._  
Dear God, Gordon.   
His mentor.  
His teacher.   
The man he had looked up to for so long. 

The Commissioner´s eyes glid over John, and after a moment they widened with shocked realization. “Blake? Is that you?” Blue eyes flicked over his body, and John realized all of the sudden that he was naked, covered in layers of dirt and grime, that he was wearing that collar...

Bane tugged at his chain. “Robin.” His voice was a low growl. “You know what you have to do.”

John could not say anything. He just stared at the two men in front of him.

Gordon.  
By God, Gordon...

Bane tugged at his leash once more, and John blinked, slowly looking up into the Alpha wolfs eyes. Horror was making him numb. “No.” He said, voice cracking. “I can’t.”

Bane went down onto one knee next to him, grabbing his chin in his large hand, forcing him to look up. His yellow eyes sparkled cruelly. “You just have to take one, Robin. The other one will be set free.” His thumb rubbed over John´s cool skin, stroking him with a gentleness that made John sick. “It is your choice.”

John felt his eyes filling with tears. His hands clenched on his thighs, and it took him all his strength not to pull his face away, to allow the Were to continue stroking him. Bane watched him like a cat would a mouse. After another long moment he spoke again, voice dangerously low. “You will choose now, little bird. Or I will kill them both right here, right now. Then I will string you back up for the sun to have its way with you once more.”

John took a low breath. The room was spinning around him, and his entire body felt as if it was burning again, felt the sun searing into his flesh, branding him… He swallowed, his mouth dry as if he was choking on dust. “Gordon.” He whispered. “Free Gordon.”

Bane was still staring at him. His voice was loud once more, so that the men could hear him. “You wish to feed on the other? And want me to set Gordon free?”

There was a shout from the younger, bound man kneeling next to the Commissioner. He must have realized what was coming for him, for he struggled as he tried to get to his feet, his eyes wild, cursing loudly. The two Weres that stood by the door were by his side within moments, one smashing the wide end of his machine gun into his head, making him slump to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Gordon was still kneeling, but John could feel his eyes burning against his skin. The Commissioner was speaking, voice low but firm, not wavering. “John. Don´t do this, John. This is not your choice to make. Don´t…” There was a low gurgle, and John´s eyes flicked to the side. He saw the muzzle of the AK47 pressed against Gordon´s temple, the glasses of the man hanging askew with the pressure. 

Bane let John go, slowly getting back to his feet. “Robin.” He rumbled. “You want me to set Gordon free.”

John could not look away, staring at the Commissioner, the man he had idolized for so many years, the man who had taught him so much.

“Yes.” He croaked. 

Bane turned toward the Wolves who were still standing by the prisoners.   
One of them pulled the unconscious younger man away, dumping him in a corner.   
Bane nodded, dropping John´s leash onto the floor. 

Then he stepped up to Commissioner Gordon, towering over him. 

For a moment both men stared at each other.   
Bane´s entire being, his wide stance, the bulging muscles of his arms screamed Alpha, but Gordon did not cower, simply looked at him calmly. 

“Bane.” Gordon said. “Let the boy go. He is nothing to you.”

Bane wheezed, a sound that could have been a low laugh. “Commissioner. Always thinking about the others, always trying to be a hero.” He slowly sunk to his knees, to be on eye-level with the man. He studied him for a long moment, then growled, voice deep and grating. “You deserve a slow death.” 

What…? John slowly lifted his head.

“….But my little one wishes for me to set you free. And so you shall be free.”

And then Bane smashed his fist into Gordon´s face.

John heard the sickening crunch, watched as Gordon´s body slowly collapsed into himself, crumbling onto the floor.

“NO!!” John could not hold back his scream. His entire body went numb, and he found himself crawling forward, as if he could stop Bane from what he was doing. He hardly noticed the second Wolf stepping up at him, pulling him up, holding him tight. He struggled and spat, feet scrabbling on the floor as he fought. “STOP! You said you would let him go! Bane! STOP!”

Bane smashed his fist one more time Gordon´s face, painting it bright red. Then he slowly turned around, his yellow eyes burning into John´s. His grating voice was low and mocking. “I said that I would set him free, little bird. And what is death but the ultimate freedom from pain and suffering?”

“NO!!!” John heaved, snarling and spitting, jerking his body in the restraints of the Were’s arms. “You BASTARD! You promised! You...”

The Wolf restraining him did not let go. 

Instead John had to watch, horrified, as Bane bowed down once more and methodically beat the Commissioner to death.

After what seemed like an eternity John´s knees gave out and he crumbled to the floor. He could not stop staring at the red mass that used to be Gordon´s face, at his glasses that had fallen next to his lifeless body. “Stop. Bane. Stop.” He whimpered, again and again. 

Bane did eventually stop.  
But only much, much later. 

When he was finally done Bane rose, wiping his bloody hands against his cargo pants, turning away from the broken mound of flesh that was once the Commissioner of Gotham. He stared down at John. “Now it is your turn, little bird. Feed.” He pointed at the still unconscious man in the corner. 

John started to shiver.

He was still kneeling, his hands like heavy, useless appendages in his lap, his head having sunk to his chest. He tried to speak, opened his mouth, but his tongue felt thick and useless, and so he stayed silent. 

He watched in numb horror as Bane walked towards him, staring down at him. He did not flinch away when the Alpha´s large hand carded through his hair, digging into his shaggy curls and forcing his head back.   
He did not fight. 

He cared not what happened to him now.

Bane huffed, his slow strokes through John´s dirty hair like a mocking caress. “Did I break you, little one?”

John said nothing.  
He blinked slowly, once, twice, wondering foggily if Bane would hang him up to face the rays of the sun once more.

Surprisingly it mattered little to him. 

Bane growled under his breath, then turned to one of the Wolves, pointing at her. “Bring the human to the cell.” Then he bent down and scooped John up into his arms, as one would a child. 

John did not struggle, sinking against the hot, broad chest. The last thing he saw were the cracked, blood-splattered glasses sitting next to the Commissioner. _He will need to get new ones_ , he thought foggily. 

Then he closed his eyes and breathed in the thick musk of the Alpha. 

His mind retreated and he slipped away into the save embrace of sleep. 

 

x

 

John woke some time later.  
He did not know how long he had slept.   
Not that it mattered. 

Nothing really mattered anymore. 

He was lying on the bed in the cell, curled up under the dirty, thin blanket. 

He rubbed his eyes and slowly pushed himself up, whole body freezing when he noted the younger man that had been with Gordon sitting on the other side of the cell. 

The man watched him with a stony face as John straightened himself, his entire body tense, hands curled into the dark fabric of his trousers.   
Black trousers.   
Uniform jacket. 

Police. 

The man stank of fear and anger, of old sweat and blood. He growled under his breath when he noted John was awake and staring at him, raising his chin, mouth set in a thin line. “Are you going to kill me?”

John said nothing.   
He took a deep breath, pulling the sickly, sweet stench of the human´s unspilled blood into his lungs.  
It made his mouth water.  
He was so very hungry.

John could see a single bead of sweat trailing down along the man´s left temple, over where his heartbeat was clearly visible. 

“Gordon is dead.” John blinked when he realized that the man had spoken. He looked into the brown eyes, the man´s face a mask, mouth down-turned and bitter. “That Wolf-bastard killed him.” 

John´s mind blanked for a moment before another wave of sadness crashed over him.   
Ah. Yes.  
Bane had beaten Gordon to death.  
He had made him watch. 

John swallowed hard, then nodded. 

“It was your fault.” The man sneered. 

John looked up. He saw the sunken cheeks of someone who had always had an excess of food his entire life and was now facing hard times, a fat man becoming thin too quickly. A man who looked like he was scrambling to keep himself standing on shaking ground even while he was falling. Someone lashing out when he was already on the floor. 

“No.” John croaked, shaking his head.

It was not his fault.  
It couldn’t be.   
He had wanted to set Gordon free. 

Bane had promised…

But the man did not listen. His fingers clenched around the ripped material of his pants, tearing at it. “Yes. It was. You chose Gordon. You…”

There was a low growl from the Wolf that was standing outside their little cell, guarding them. John´s eyes snapped up, staring at her. She stared back, her eyes like hard, black marbles, her hands curled around a large machine gun. 

The man had turned as well, his face blanching a little more when he saw the large woman behind him. 

He shuffled away to be closer to John, still leaning against the bars of the cell.   
When he spoke again his voice was lowered to a mere whisper. Still John could make out every single word, as if he was screaming at him. “I don´t care what they did to you.” His eyes glid up and down John´s visibly abused body, mouth down-turned in disgust. “Hell, you are one of them anyway, aren´t you? One of those… creatures.” He spat the word like a curse. “Pretty sure you had it coming. Probably killed your fair share. You are nothing but filth. You...” John had been listening with mounting horror and could not hold back a violent flinch when the man suddenly let out a low moan, his eyes rolling back in their sockets before he collapsed into a small pile on the floor. 

John was sitting on the bed, frozen, unable to move. 

The Were stood behind the unconscious man, staring down at him with obvious distaste. She was still holding the gun she had used to club the man in the head. Her voice was hoarse, husky. “Might as well feed now before he wakes up again.”

John could not look away from the small trickle of blood that was running onto the floor from where the man had been hit. Saliva flooded his mouth, and he swallowed hungrily as the thick, coppery scent washed over him, made his stomach cramp.

The Were was now looking at John, her face expressionless. “Pretty sure you don´t want to wait till Bane checks up on you.”

John shivered.   
Pictures flashed through his mind, and he shook his head to get rid of them. 

Then he nodded and slowly rose.

He could see the pounding of the man´s pulse on his neck, could smell the strong smell of sweat and fear mingling into a heady mix. 

He did not look at the Were again, not after the first burst of sweet blood hit his tongue. 

 

x

 

Bane came to take him out of his cell a day later.

John had spend the time sitting in a corner, staring at the wall.   
While his body was once again brimming with energy that came from being freshly sated on the blood of an entire human being, his mind was drifting in and out of awareness. 

He preferred not to think anymore.   
For thinking was hard.  
Painful.   
When he allowed himself to consider what had been happening, to him, to others, too many horrors swamped his mind, churning in his head, making him relive them over and over again…  
Reminding him that he was still here, caught, a plaything to a madman.  
That he had killed three humans by now.   
Innocent humans…  
That the hope for Batman to come and save him soon was slowly fading.

No.   
It was so much better not think.   
Better to just be empty.   
So much easier. 

A few hours ago the Were guarding his cell had gotten rid of the body that still was lying next to the entrance, but John had not even looked at her. 

She had not returned, and he had been alone ever since.

Now, when he heard the heavy, booted footsteps making their way down the hallway his stomach cramped into a small ball, and it took all his willpower to keep himself from shivering and trying to hide in a corner, in the hope that Bane would not find him.

But there was nowhere to go.   
Nowhere to flee. 

So John closed his eyes, fingers kneading along the cold, dead skin of his lower arms as the door opened behind him, the angry screech of the rusty hinges making him wince. 

“Little bird. Come.” Bane´s voice was low and grating. John took a deep breath before he forced himself to stand, his hands fisted at his sides. He turned slowly, keeping his eyes glued to the floor as Bane clipped the end of his leash into his collar. 

When Bane tugged at the chain, he followed without a complaint.

So much easier that way.

Bane took him away from the cell, towards the large room once more. Once they had passed it, however, they entered a darker, narrow hallway.   
The corridor they walked through was not familiar and utterly empty. 

John did not even want to know where they were going.

It likely wasn´t somewhere good.

They stopped in front of an old, rusty door that hung in its hinges, and they had to climb over debris to enter the room behind it. John had a look around, taking in the old tiles beneath his feet, the dirty walls, the rusty pipes above them. Then he noted the shower heads lined in a row, realizing that they had entered wash-rooms.

Bane dropped the leash and then began to strip.   
John had frozen in his place, watching as the Alpha peeled himself first out of his shirt, revealing an enormous amount of muscles that no one but Wolves could feature in real life. He could not help but stare at the flesh that was as if chiseled from stone, but when Bane opened his zipper and dropped his pants, John looked away.

He knew where this was going.   
He realized his mind was already retreating.

“Little bird. Come here.”

John slowly walked over to Bane. The man, naked as he was, was intimidating in his glory. So much flesh, furred on the chest and along the back...   
A beast of a man.

If they were in any other situation, John thought absent-mindedly, he might have even been attracted to Bane.  
He liked his men to be larger than him.   
Muscled.  
Overpowering. 

He snapped back into reality when Bane´s hot hands curled around his upper arms and pulled him forward, against his own, broad chest. John closed his eyes as he was pressed against warm flesh, his fingers scrabbling over thick, hard muscles.

Bane turned on the shower above them, and John flinched when the first stream of cold water hit him. Then he raised his head against the flow, savoring it. He would be dirty enough soon again, but to wash off the layers of cum, sweat and piss that had accumulated over the days and weeks was heavenly.

“Little bird. Against the wall.”

John swallowed as he was turned to face the white, broken tiles behind him, a heavy hand on the nape of his neck. He shivered, biting his lip and closing his eyes against the pain that he knew would be coming, that he had learned to expect.

It was a surprise when Bane let him go and instead he heard the snap of a lid. Then there were hands in his grimy curls, and they started to rub them in slow, even strokes. John´s eyes fluttered open, and he saw bits of foam running down his naked body as Bane continued to work his scalp with strong fingers. 

Bane was _washing_ him.

John let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding.

Bane continued washing his hair, rinsing it twice before he worked down his body, fingers slippery with soap, taking care to cover John´s arms, his belly and back, all the way down to his feet. When he stood again he leaned against John, a hot brand against his entire back.

Then he spread John´s cheeks and pushed a single, soap-slippery finger into his ass.

John´s breath hitched. His fingers clawed into the tiles in front of him, and he could not keep himself from tensing.

Bane grunted, thrusting his finger in and out of John´s hole slowly, languidly- After a while he added a second one, spreading them, kneading his rim.

John panted as the water continued to run over them, as Bane slowly and thoroughly fingered him open. It was so different from the brutal rapes he had been subjected to before that he did not know what to do.

His body, well used to bottoming to his partners in the past, found memories associated to the ministrations and started to react, sending lazy curls of pleasure into the pit of his stomach. 

To John´s immense horror, his cock twitched and started to harden. 

“Stop...” He whispered as he tensed around the fingers deep inside of him.

This was… bad.  
His rape, it had always hurt.   
But now… he felt hints of pleasure, if ever so distant.   
It was wrong. 

Panic rolled over him and he tried to straighten, to get away, maybe even fight. Anything but this.

The fingers on his neck tightened painfully, and Bane slid his fingers deep, holding John in place. “Little bird. Submit.”

John could not hold back the low sob.  
He took a shallow, panicked breath and then another, the hot fingers in his ass like brands, grazing his prostate. He could feel Bane move in closer, and then the cool metal of his grill pressed against the side of his face, crowding him. “Submit, Robin.” The words were breathed, and John could feel Bane´s cock hard against the back of his buttocks, reminding him what was going to happen, whether he liked it or not.

John took another shuddering breath, and then he hung his head in defeat.

He was not sure whether pain or pleasure was worse, at this point.

But whatever this was, Bane would force it on him either way. 

There was nothing he could do. 

He let out a hiss when Bane pulled out and pressed back with three fingers.  
There was a low ache now, for Bane´s finger were broad and while he was being damnable gentle, he still did not give John enough time to adjust to the intrusion of his body. He continued to pump in and out of John, slowly, adding more soap to make the glide slick and John´s ass as slippery as any cunt. 

Finally Bane deemed the preparation sufficient. He was panting softly as he turned John around, pressing the slight vampire back against the tiles. John squeezed his eyes shut when Bane slipped his hands under his ass and lifted him, pressing him against the wall. John could feel the hot erection of the Were against his cool flesh, and he held his breath, his fingers clawing into Bane´s shoulders.

“Little Bird.” Bane´s voice was a low rumble. It sounded almost gentle. 

John shook his head, whining low in his throat.

Bane just huffed and held him up, crowding his body against the wall with his own. He used one hand to slide his hot cock into the crack of John´s ass, until the fat head hooked into the stretched entrance.

Then Bane slowly pushed into him.

John moaned, his head falling back against the tiles as Bane slid deep into him, pulling him down and seating him on his thick cock in a single, hot slide. He took John´s hands and pulled them around his neck, then put his forearms under John´s knees, opening him wider.

The fuck was slow, leisurely.  
It did not hurt as it usually did, not by far, but somehow it was just as bad.

Instead Bane took his time. He pulled out all the way just to slowly push back in, his thick erection sliding along places that made John jolt with sudden pleasure, just to die down drowned in disgust as quickly as they had come. Bane pressed his muzzle against John´s neck, huffing hot breath against cool skin as he fucked into the vampires body again and again.

After what seemed forever Bane started to speed up and John groaned, biting his lip as the well-known ache spread through his extremities, setting him on fire.

Bane was panting, sometimes rumbling low in his throat, and John whined when his thrusts became faster, punishingly so.

Then something happened that made John tense.

Bane´s cock became thicker.

He let out a pained moan when the thick cock could not pull out all the way, spreading him wider, opening him further, past the point of painful into agony.

“Stop, stop, what are you doing?” John´s breath hitched as he started to panic, fingers scrabbling at Bane´s arms to make him stop. When the Were did not relent John bit into his shoulder, a reflex against the pain of being stretched past his bodies capacities, and Bane growled and took him by the throat, slamming him back against the wall.

John gasped for breath as Bane held him in place, choking him, while his cock continuing to expand, tying them together.

A knot.

Bane was knotting him.

John cried out when he felt like he could take it no more, and then Bane stilled, letting out a low, dangerous growl and John could feel the hot seed painting his insides in rhythmic bursts.

Bane was claiming him.

Inside and out.

John let all the tension run out of his body, and found himself cradled in Bane´s arms as he tried to push deeper still, riding out his orgasm. “My little bird. My Robin.” Bane panted. “Mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> x
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: Minor character death: Gordon.


End file.
